Rainbow
by Roses of Sharon
Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. CRACK. 32, Pink, KankSaku.
1. Red, KibaIno

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Author's Note: So this fulfills both the new drabble option of the poll (sixteen percent!) and the different pairings part of the poll (seven percent!) Watch out for the crack pairings!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life is split into a million fragmented colors, and one must experience them all before trying. 1, Red, KibaIno.

_Rainbow_

_**Red**_

_(KibaIno)_

Red is passion, is fire, is twirling on the dance floor until it hurts. Red is Ino's red-soled black stilettos, and red is Ino dancing next to him, holding his hand, baby blue eyes cheerful and pale and effervescent.

Red is his Inuzuka clan markings, an angular teardrop on each cheek. Her pinkpink tongue slips out from between her redred lips and the she leaves on those markings is undeniably good. Blue eyes laugh and blonde hair twirls and Ino is miles away, laughing and beckoning.

He gives chase, Akamaru at his side, and the thrill of the chase calls to his blood and to hers. He catches her, a fang dipping down to leave one shining trail of red down her neck. She bites, hard, and the red imprints of her teeth reside on his collarbone.

A challenge. He opens his arms and she runs, red-soled stilettos flashing against eh black earth under the red sky, and he lets her go for five seconds before he chases, following her scent (she smells like red, like passion, like love and sex and forgetting until tomorrow) to the tree. Redwood, with red-brown wood and red-green leaves and red-gray squirrels.

She is at the top, red-soled feet swinging, redred lips parted, blueblue eyes laughing in triumph. She lifts a pale, red-nailed hand, and then she's beckoning to him. He lifts a hand to a tattooed cheek, and envisions her with red in her hair, and runs up the tree, branches drawing (redredred) blood.

From the sky there fall red, burning stars, and you look at her and tell her to make a wish.

It comes true.


	2. Orange, KakaSaku

Author's Note: So this fulfills both the new drabble option of the poll (sixteen percent

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 2, Orange, KakaSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Orange**_

_(KakaSaku)_

He comes to her in the fall, when the trees and the sky and the water are orange, and he finds her sitting on the bank of an orange river reflecting the sunset, hair dusty pink-orange. Orange-painted toenails dabble in the river, and she fingers the orange jacket wrapped around her arms.

_Naruto_, his mind whispers, and his fingers tighten on the orange book in his pouch. She turns to look at him, green eyes burning orange in the fading light of the dying sun. "Kakashi," she murmurs, and she turns back, orange-painted fingers plucking buttercups more orange than yellow from the orange-brown grass.

"Sakura," he says, and the word is hoarse and sharp and brittle, like orange-brown-dead leaves crunching underfoot. Orange, he decides, is the color of the Fall, the color of Those Left Behind. She stands, brushing orange-red-yellow-brown-dead leaves from her jeans, and then she slips her little hand into his. She smiles up at him, and orange burns for a moment in her eyes before it fades to green.

He leads her to the park, covered in this season's foliage, and buys her an orange creamsicle. She laughs, the tinkle of golden bells, and takes a bite before smiling through orange-coated lips and offering the sweet up to him. He doesn't take it, and her smile grows – she raises her mouth up to his and, through the mask, he tastes orange.

They smile, and she walks ahead of him down the street, orange flip-flops clicking softly, the dying sun outlining her hair, her skin, her eyes, bathing her in orange.

He smiles, and from his pocket he draws a ring of red-orange-yellow gold.


	3. Yellow, GaaSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Author's Note: Currently Accepting Requests! Please leave the color and pairing or character in a review. Please be aware that there are many, many characters that I do not know very well – or at all.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 3, Yellow, GaaSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Yellow**_

_(GaaSaku)_

Konoha sends its medic to Suna, where white_yellowyellow_brown sands sent yellow_yellow_yellow glares into her eyes. So she spends her days bleaching her pale hair paler with yellow, bright sun, and creating wounds in splashes of yellow light, and healing them in flashes of green.

She scribbles on daintily yellow legal pads and whispers words bright than dreams into the ears of her patients, and as she brushes aside sun-bleached sands from her yellow wood floors, she waits.

The first time she sees him, it is in weather so hot and bright she thinks yellow could be permanently burned into her vision, and her skin is brown-yellow with sand and dirt. He is spotless, and his sand forms a ceiling over his head. His forehead protector briefly blinds her in yellow, reflect light, but she steps forward and her nails, painted yellow like the sun and buttercups and the centers of daisies, brush coolly against his skin.

"Haruno Sakura," he says, and his voice is like sun and warmth and melting butter. "Kunoichi and Medic-nin of our ally Konohagakure. We welcome you to the Sand, and thank you and the Godaime Hokage for all you have done."

She smiles, and her own voice is like the breath of air over sunlight on waterfalls, and she nods and thanks him for the opportunity. Her hand slips into her pocket, where it hovers of a scroll sealed in yellow, and then she smiles again and follows Temari into the house.

His green eyes follow her in, and he thinks that, maybe, he sees the brightness of the sun in her gaze.


	4. Green, ShikaTem

She always visits Konoha in the spring

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 4, Green, ShikaTem.

_Rainbow_

_**Green**_

_(ShikaTem)_

She always visits Konoha in the spring. _For the green_, she tells him. It is never green in Suna. And as she walks past him, he barely glimpses the emeralds gleaming in her ears. She stretches on jade-ringed finger out to him, and he slides his pinky in hers – _Troublesome_, he murmurs, and a fan embroidered in green hits his head.

They stroll along, on patches of green grass under green trees, and they stop in front of a pond so clear that the trees reflected in it are darker and greener than the trees on the bank. There, they stop, and she slips off green sandals and slips out green elastics and wades into the pool.

She fishes around in the water for a moment, and he watches her and the clouds, a lazy smile crossing his face. _Here_, she cries, and throws at him a sparkling, beautiful green stone. He catches it with a ninja's precision, and then he opens his hand and looks at it. It is not really green.

It is grey-black-green-white, but what is important is the glimpses, the flashes of blinding green as he turns it in his hands. He tosses it back, and she catches it without looking at him. _Shikamaru_, she calls, and he looks up in time to catch her jade wristlets. _Hold those for me_, she calls, and the edge of command in her voice. He smiles and tried to slip them onto his own, significantly larger, wrists.

It doesn't work and, with a sigh, he slides them into his kunai pouch. He pulls out a cigarette, wincing at the green packaging the red Surgeon General's warning on the packets. He flicks his lighter, lights the stick of packaged death, and lifts it to his mouth.

A gust of wind blows it out, and he looks at Temari. Her green-embroidered silk fan is out in front of her, and algae clings to her arms, and she is beautiful. _Shikamaru_, she says. _Come here._

He flashes a smile at her and wades into the water, sending ripples across the greengreengreen water.


	5. Blue, LeeTen

Author's Note: FF is currently screwing with my formatting, so there's always a funny out-of-place line at the top of the page

Author's Note: FF is currently screwing with my formatting, so there's always a funny out-of-place line at the top of the page. I just noticed it, and I have no clue how to fix it, so please just ignore it.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 5, Blue, LeeTen.

_Rainbow_

_**Blue**_

_(LeeTen)_

They sky is blue-gray-white the day they arrive in Konoha, and Tenten thinks that, maybe, its finally time to let go. She grips her mentor's forehead protector, and the blue steel edge digs into her palm. _No._ The man mist die, she amends. The man with the blueblue skin and the blueblue steel.

She looks at the sky and vows that he will die by her hand. A tentative touch on her shoulder, and she turns to face him, his eyes large and mournful under thick eyebrows and bowl-cut hair, and she thinks that she just might cry.

Instead, she squares her shoulders and looks down at the sky and curses it. Its blue and blue and blue, and she thinks that the sky itself should mourn for the passing of one of Konoha's greats. The tears that drip down her face aren't exactly blue, but she thinks that perhaps they reflect the sky.

Quickly, she brushes them away, and the look Lee gives her is deeper than the sea. She feels an answering smile flit across her lips, and he beams all the brighter in response. His teeth don't sparkle, and she finds herself wishing they would, so she could have something to blame her tears on. She brushes blue-lined hands across her civilian clothes – blue jeans and mismatched socks and sneakers – and then she reaches out and takes Lee's hand in her own, and feels him squeeze in return.

"Tenten," he breathes, and it is a promise, blue and beautiful as the summer sky. And it whispers like a breeze across her, _We'll find him. We'll avenge Gai-sensei. We will. _


	6. Indigo, ShinoHina

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Warnings: allusions to nonconsensual sex

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 6, Indigo, ShinoHina.

_Rainbow_

_**Indigo**_

_(ShinoHIna)_

Indigo hair fades into deepening night, and Shino finds himself chasing after the flashes of white-purple-blue that escape from the strands. Wide white eyes stare into the darkness and somehow make it night, and she strains through the forest, tiny feet soundlessly rushing.

The indigo suit she wears is all one shade, the same shade as the shadows and the night and the dark, but he barely manages to see it silhouetted against the tree before it once again fades. She dives forward, and he follows her, listening for the sound of her breathing, the rustle of her clothing.

(It feels like he is always, always chasing. HE doubts she knows she's leading.)

And then she stops, on the banks of a river scattered with indigo flowers. She pants, hands on knees, and in the blue-purple-dark, he thinks her nails are painted indigo. Her life is bruised blue-purple, like her swollen lips, and he stands a meter away from her and watches as she strips, no longer body-shy in front of her teammate, and plunges into the water.

She gasps from the cold, and he backs away before she rises from the water. _I'm sorry_, she says to him from the stream. Her teeth chatter from cold, but she stays in the water despite that. He nods, and he knows she can tell.

Later, she rises from the water, and Shino's coat drops around her shoulders, her hair dark against the tan.


	7. Charcoal, SasuAnko

Author's Note: So, I made a little chart of characters and colors and randomly smooshed them together

Author's Note: So, I made a little chart of characters and colors and randomly smooshed them together. (By the way, no I was not high when I decided that this was a plausible pairing. Compared to, say, OroTen, it was.)

Warnings: pedophilia? crack.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 7, Charcoal, SasuAnko.

_Rainbow_

_**Charcoal**_

_(SasuAnko)_

Their love is spent and burnt, charcoal, like the ruins of their former home and the remains of their dead teacher.

Like them.

The world is whitegrayblack, powdery and flaking and dark, and they are alone. Survivors. Of everything the world could throw at them, and then some: defection and failed love and shattered dreams and, especially, a snake-tongued pedophile that one of them still loves and the other still hates.

And Anko lets her snakes twine around her and listens to Sasuke's silence and the slither of his snakes against warm wooden floors.

The first meeting that matters is in a library. Sasuke, Anko discovers, likes libraries. Because they are _quiet._ In the far east corner of the building, between history and politics and economics, there are two chairs and a coffee table. Sasuke always sits in the left one.

Sakura and Naruto and sometimes Kakashi sit in the other chairs, but she watches and she can see why they bother him. _They're so slow_, she thinks, _except maybe Kakashi, who is almost too fast._ They don't _get _it. Sasuke tips his head at Sakura and briefly tilts his head back against the chair when Sakura sits down, and Sakura smiles and greets him and settles in with her own book – a heavy medical tome – and they continue.

One day, she sits down in front of him and tilts her chin to the left and up, just a little, when he looks at her. An almost-smile appears in his eyes. His chin tilts to the right a little, but not up, and she thinks, _A test. _And she briefly turns her back on him to grab a book. When he looks back, he is once more absorbed in his charts and diagrams and papers.

_They don't understand grey_, she thinks, _only black and white. _She's happy that she understands.


	8. Brown, NaruIno

Warnings: pedophilia

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 8, Brown, NaruIno.

_Rainbow_

_**Brown**_

_(NaruIno)_

It is a horrible, muddy day. The sky is a sickening shade of yellowbrowngray and the sun shines only dimly, casting off-color light around the training fields with their muddy grounds and trampled not-green grasses.

Ino walks down the street, safe from the mud in wooden patterns, and ducks inside Ichiraku. Sakura is busy at the hospital, she thinks. Neji is out on a mission, so naturally Tenten is, too. Shikamaru and Chouji are out for the count. Sasuke was probably frolicking about in his purple assbow. Lee was training. Heck, Kiba, Shino, and Hinata got full-team missions, too! So why hadn't she been given one?

She sighed, running a henna-designed hand through her golden tresses. It wasn't like she couldn't use the money. Actually, her mother's birthday was coming up soon, so she most definitely _could _use the money.

She sat down in a stool, covering a cough with her hand. A wrinkle appeared on her forehead, and she quickly smoothed it out. _That's _why, she thought, a little grumpily. That gods-damned cold she got after that little C-ranked mission in the rain. Just because she was the only one free at the time, and she needed a bit of extra change, she was unable to go on that amazing A-rank Shika and Chouji were on.

The blonde kunoichi raised a finger, and the cook turned away. _One miso ramen_, she thinks, and then she is reminded of the time when she wouldn't have eaten ramen for the world. But they don't sell salads here, and she is far too lazy to go find a McDonald's or a Burger King that does. Anyways, a street stall is probably far better than a fast food, any day.

The steaming, brown bowl of noodles and soup is shoved under her nose just as another shinobi enters the stall. She always knows whether it is shinobi or not, because shinobi always make the slightest noise when they enter any dwelling, other than Kakashi-senpai, who refuses to do it to be ridiculous. Civilians bumble and pull aside the curtains with impatient, ungraceful movements and stomp.

The shinobi sits in the stool beside hers in a distinctly graceless motion, and she manages to look up through the steam and the delicious, fattening noodles. "Naruto," she says, a little surprised. "I heard you were out."

He nods, and she notices the little lines of fatigue around his eyes, the droop of his eyelids. "Yeah," he says, and then his bowl of ramen is placed in front of him. _Miso_, she notes, and she is strangely pleased at his choice.

"I just got back," he says once the bowl is empty and he is calling for another. "Sakura-chan was too busy at the hospital to meet me, but we're having dinner." The pang of envy is unmistakable after all those years competing for Sasuke, and she snaps, "Forehead? She'll probably be dragged away by some new emergency."

Naruto turns mournful blue eyes to her, the color deeper than her own baby blues. "Ino," he sighs, and she instantly feels guilty. She looks down at the bowl of noodles in her hands, and then she stands and slides her coins across the counter.

A tan hand rests on hers for half a moment, and she looks up into Naruto's smiling eyes. "I'll pay," he says, and she doesn't quite realize what an honor this is. "Just got paid, after all."


	9. Rose, ItaTem

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 9, Rose, ItaTem.

_Rainbow_

_**Rose**_

_(ItaTem)_

They meet for the first time in the rosy haze of sunrise. "Uchiha Itachi," she says.

"Sabaku no Temari," he replies, and the wind of her fan sweeps away the words. They fight there, among the desert sands, as the sun reaches its zenith and their blood colors the dunes.

But he is Akatsuki, and she cannot defeat him alone. At last, she collapses, and she does not rise again. He walks – _glides _– over to her, rose-stained sand crunching under his feet.

"Sabaku no Temari," he says, voice impeccably polite. "It was my honor to kill you. However, I…" He never gets to finish his sentence, because Temari is _kunoichi_ and it shows in her pale pink bloodstained nails, in the blood on her silky hair.

And so she will do everything for her Kazekage, and even more for her brother. And so such lunges up and plants her lips on his and plunges her tongue into his mouth and _kisses _him, fiercely.

His unresponsiveness is nerve-wracking, because she knows that he is faster than she is, and she has no chance – no chance but this. And it would be lying to say that he was not beautiful, that she did not, on some level, enjoy kissing a beautiful man.

Smirking against his lips, she nipped at his tongue, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The next thing she knows, she is slammed against the stone wall and he is kissing her back, furiously, angrily, desperately.

The pouch of poisons is in her back pocket, unreachable, but he ring on her hand is easy to use. She flicks it open as discreetly as she can, and her hand travels up to his hair. Quickly, professionally, she pricks the back of his neck, and she marvels that he could be so easy.

_It was the blood_, he will say to her later.

But when he wakes, he is left with her taste in his mouth and her blood on the sands. He decides that she tastes of roses.


	10. Forest Green, SasuTen

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 10, Forest Green, SasuTen.

_Rainbow_

_**Forest Green**_

_(SasuTen)_

Tenten stands under a tree and _breathes. _It smells of pine and sap and falling rain and growing things, and it is beautiful.

There is a deliberate crack of a twig behind her, and she slowly opens her eyes, letting the green-shadowed lids unveil hazel eyes. "Uchiha Sasuke," she murmurs,a dn turns to face him.

He is blue and black and green and darkness, one with the shadows of the trees. She supposes that is why they meet here, always.

"Tenten," he says, and she hears the pause, the stutter, when he gropes for her last name and does not find one. _Such an Uchiha_, she thinks. _Just like Neji._

She knows what he wants from her, and with a sigh she henges. Brown hair turned pink tumbles free of its pins, and she lets too-wide green eyes and too-soft pink lips smile.

When she looks at him, her dead lover's name on her lips, she falters, and the henge slips from her. "Sasuke-san?" It is funny that, after all this time, she dares call him _Sasuke-kun_ only as Sakura.

Steady black-not-white eyes watch her for a moment, as though gauging her. Testing her. She tries not to show that he henges horribly, and that his Neji is still Sasuke, and that she wants him as a woman needs a man.

In the end he, too, smiles and henges. She does not see the Sharingan he covers, and in the end, they are Sasuke and Tenten, making love to each other as someone they are not.

8888888888

Author's Note: And, bang, I just used up my freebie. Of course, you've all seen this before… but heck.


	11. Rust, NejiHina

Warnings: incest

Warnings: incest

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 11, Rust, NejiHina.

_Rainbow_

_**Rust**_

_(NejiHina)_

Rust covers the walls of the Hyuuga Compound, and no one sees it but Hinata. It is in everything, she decides. Everything is old and dying, clinging to life and tradition.

_(tradition is what you resort to when you have neither the time nor the money to do it better)_

She will be exiled to the Branch House soon, she knows. It is almost a terrifying thought, yet… she will be free. When she is exiled, she will have only the duty of protecting Hanabi-nee-chan, and then not even for long.

The shadow behind her stops as she does, and she dares a glance over her shoulder before continuing on her way. It is Neji-nii-san, as it has always been Neji-nii-san who protected her and watched over her and cared for her.

And there is a pang of fear as she contemplates her fate. Neji-nii-san will no longer protect her. Neji-nii-san will have no obligation towards her.

Her mouth is open before she finishes the thought. "Neji-san," she says. "Do you love me?" She can tell by the silence that he cannot – will not – answer.

"Neji-san," she says. "Tell me, how many children will I be expected to bear once I am branded? And with whom?" Her voice does not shake and she is proud of it. She has fallen too far already.

"I believe," he says, his voice deathly calm, "that I am under consideration."

A gasp escapes her, and she is unable to control the words tumbling from her lips, "You, Neji-nii-san?"

His entire face tightens, and he replies, "I believe that you will have a choice, Hinata-sama. You will be able to choose who will head the Branch House with you."

She nods, trying to control the absolute giddiness that fills her at his words, and watches his profile. "Then, Neji-san, I will choose you." She falters, worry sliding across her emotions, "If you do not mind?"

It takes him a moment to answer, and her brows furrow in worry. "It would be…" his voice cracks, just the tiniest bit, and he continues, "It will be my pleasure."


	12. Opal, KakaShiz

Warnings: incest

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 12, Opal, KakaShiz.

_Rainbow_

_**Opal**_

_(KakaShiz)_

_She is more than she seems_, Kakashi decides. Not kunoichi, not a civilian, and not rogue. There are few of those around anymore, and those that are are admittedly interesting.

He decides to let her keep her secrets (the sharpened pins in her hair, the poison on her nails and lips, the blades inside her sleeves) only because she is Hokage-sama's. Tsunade does not deal well with interference, and Hokage-sama can put him on C-ranks.

He wisely keeps his mouth shut.

But he cannot keep his eyes shut, not his ears, and he cannot block out what he does see: that she is skilled and capable, that she is hardworking and loving, and that she has an amazing ass.

So when Sakura comes to his apartments one day, he is not too surprised at what she has to say. "Kakashi-senpai," she begins. "You are going to take Shizune-senpai out for dinner tonight at six. And you are not going to be late."

And then she walks out of his apartment, and he decides that, alright, maybe he is a little surprised.

But he knows better than to anger Sakura (especially at this time of month), so he bits his tongue and picks Shizune up at eight and they have dinner. _(Go with me, he pleads, or Sakura will kill me. She laughs and agrees.)_

The next time he arrives at her office, he has no such excuse, but she goes out with him, nonetheless.

Kakashi decides that she is opal, and he has a ring made of it. Not-white not-pink not-gold, because that is what she is not. She is herself.


	13. Jean, KibaHina

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Author's Notes: So, I keep trying to fix that awkward line at the top of the page. And it's not working. So please ignore the top line (or fragment) if the words before the colon are not underlined. Read; **it does not apply**. Also, I would like to apologize for (a) my rather sad lack of updates, and (b) the shortness of this update. The next one will make up for it, I promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 13, Jean, KibaHIna.

_Rainbow_

_**Jean**_

_(KibaHina)_

He is rough, battered and torn, like the blue jeans he has taken to wearing.

Compared to him, she is all silk and curved edges and water-worn stone.

But she is strong – she has to be. it is her duty, to him and Shino-kun and Kurenai-sensei and Naruto-kun, to everyone who has helped her on the way.

She has been broken, but she was put back together so carefully that the cracks are hardly noticeable, unless one looks closely. She thinks that maybe someone was careless in putting him back together, or maybe the Byakugan sees too much. As usual.

_(It hurts to be Hyuuga, sometimes. She wonders if it hurts to be Inuzuka, too.)_

And then she thinks he is lucky, because everyone knows she is flawed, is cracked, even if they cannot see it – but he is open, for all to see. Is it easier, she wonders.

One day, she asks him. He throws his head back and laughs. "Balance," he explains. "I do not trap myself, as the Hyuuga do."

The next time they meet, Hinata wears a beautiful pair of grey-washed skinny jeans, and the look in Kiba's eyes is worth.


	14. Baby Pink, LeeSaku

Warnings: dark, threesomes implied

Author's Notes: So I'm going to take half a minute to _beg _for reviews. I'm serious. I actually like this series, because I'm going places I've never been before and I'm trying out new pairings that absolutely disgust me, and I really, really need your feedback on this one. Please. Begging now.

Warnings: dark, threesomes implied

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 14, Baby Pink, LeeSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Baby Pink**_

_(LeeSaku)_

She thinks it is sickening that he thinks he loves her. That he is so naïve that he _believes _in her. She flicks baby pink hair over red-clad shoulder with rosebud-painted nails and smirks, cruel and beautiful.

She makes a game of it, a game she knows she cannot win but takes sadistic, masochistic glee from. "You know, Lee-san," she says one day. "Once there was a beautiful woman in a faraway land. She was kind and gentle and loving, and she lived in a house by the sea. Have you ever seen the sea, Lee-san?"

A bitter, victorious smile rises to her lips, "Wave Country, hm? Well, this lady made a mistake. You see, she knew just a little bit too much. And she was just a little bit too willing to sell that information. So do you know what happened to that beautiful lady, Lee-san?"

Her laughter rings out through the clearing, empty and hollow. "A pink-haired monster killed her."

That is how all her stories end. _A pink-haired monster… A cherry blossom in flight… a bloodstained rose… _

And then she stands, dusts off her skirt, and walks away. He never follows, and she counts this as a minor victory.

_(You may win the battle, but you can never win the war.)_

Until one day, he stops her. His hand is on her wrist, _touching _her, and she revels in the feel of human contact. It has been so long, and Sasuke and Naruto are so dead… but coldly, she shakes him off and walks away.

"Sakura-san," he calls after her, and she pauses (_it has been so long since she has been Sakura_) and that is her mistake.

"You are not a monster," he says. "And I will prove it to you."

And he spins her around and he kisses her, and its beautiful and she doesn't deserve it but he's offering it and it has been _so long_.

She melts under his touch, as she once melted under _theirs_, and thinks of new beginnings.


	15. Pearl, ItaHana

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 14, Baby Pink, LeeSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Pearl**_

_(ItaHana)_

Pearls are so fragile. A false slip of the kunai, a clatter against the floor and a crunch underfoot, and they are scratched. Broken. Imperfect.

He gives her strings of them, the tears of the ocean, and she bites back her tears as he clasps the strings behind her. He is half a head taller than her, maybe more, and he keeps his eyes fixed on some point above her head.

_Kunoichi_, she reminds herself. _You are kunoichi, even if you are no longer of the Leaf. Kunoichi do not cry. Kunoichi do not show weakness_. The first burning tear trails down her cheek, the third time in as many days that she has give up, that she has given in (to him).

He pauses for a moment, and then he fumbles for her cheek, wiping the tear away clumsily. It makes her cry all the more, with the furious, desperate knowledge that this is not as it should be.

Itachi was born a genius, a prodigy of the Uchiha Clan. He was born to be the greatest of the great, a ninja with the potential to beat all others. He was born to be _King_.

A man with as much potential as he has should not be blind.

And she tells herself that this is why she stay, though he captured her by force when his vision was perfect, when his Sharingan was fully function, and she is sure that, now, she could leave.

But she will not. Not yet. (Perhaps not ever, her traitorous heart whispers.)

The pearls drop from her neck with a clatter, and she kneels to pick them up. There is a scratch in one, the large one in the center of the bottom string, and she runs a nail along it. The sight of it brings more tears to her eyes, and she quickly stands, moving silently, thoughtlessly, to her desk. With a kunai, she peels away the damaged layers, until the pearl lies perfectly in her hand. Smaller, but perfect. Less, but perfect.

And she curse Itachi for buying her the pearls, curses him for bringing her here, curses him for standing so blindly exactly where she left him, and curses him for making her see.


	16. Gold, ItaSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 16, Gold, ItaSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Gold**_

_(ItaSaku)_

Gold is heavy (like guilt) and she wears a thick collar of it around her neck (like chains). The metal is burning hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter and it makes her smile.

The rings on her fingers and toes are silver, her anklets and bracelets and piercings are silver, but the collar around her neck is always, always gold.

_Itachi's pet_, they whisper, and she pretends she does not hear them and smiles, fingers resting lightly on his forearm.

It might be true, and it might not be true, but it doesn't matter to her – it can't matter to her, not anymore. _They are nothing_, she reminds herself, and focuses on the feel of the silk brushing against the slim legs wrapped in bandages, the heavy knot of hair in the back of her head, bound by sharpened pins. These things are material. These things are real. These things are _there_, and they have direct influence on her being. On her survival. For now, the others do not.

The weight of the gold is heavy, but the guilt is heavier. She sneaks a glance at her husband (captor, savior, jailor) who looks so much like her first love. She wonders what Sasuke (and Naruto and Ino-pig and Tsunade-shishou and Sai and Kakashi-senpai and…) would think of her if they could see her now, and then she reminds herself that _it does not matter_ and they are _dead _and she would be too, if not for _him_.

And she should be very grateful to him for that. (Even though she healed his eyes and paid him back for saving her life.) She owes him children, a continuation of his loathsome, murderous line, and this duty is the only one she has not performed for him yet.

She wonders (hopesthinksmourns) if he will soon grow tired of waiting. There are other women, she knows: other women who are adoring and uncomplicated and more than willing. And she wonders why he is still here, when he could so easily be elsewhere.

And she doesn't know. She doesn't know _anything_, and Itachi is at the center of everything. And that Itachi saved her. And that she owes him.

She doesn't know what this means, any of it, and the knowledge that _they _would have wanted her alive no matter what is only enough sometimes.

Other times, its not, and she can only finger her collar and remind herself of debts worth more than gold. Debts that are yet unpaid.

8888888888

Author's Note: So maybe I'm projecting my own insecurities or lack-of-knowledge-ness or whatever on Sakura, but I AM THE AUTHOR therefore I can PROJECT HOWEVER MUCH I WANT.


	17. Raspberry, KakaHina

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 17, Raspberry, KakaHina.

_Rainbow_

_**Raspberry **_

_(KakaHina)_

He doesn't notice her – ever – until she is Jounin, and for this he is a little bit sorry. Just a little bit, because Hatake Kakashi has no time for remorse. Bu maybe he can learn, and maybe she can teach him. Maybe.

But he meets her in the hospital, when she is lying on a bed alone and staring at the white ceiling. The room is emptyemptyemptier and he blinks for a moment, wondering at that. Where are the flowers, the get-well cards, the family members?

A few discreet jabs at Sakura later, he is in possession of more than enough information. The Hyuuga as a whole refuse to visit their family in hospitals. Neji is away with Tenten. Yamanaka Ino was currently broke, and Sakura… the girl has shrugged and gestured at the mountains of paperwork covering her desk. "Sorry, Kaka-sensei," she said. "But Tsunade-shishou will have my head if I leave for anything less that Akatsuki knocking on Konoha's gates."

So Kakashi was left to feel sorry for Hinata by himself, something he was most definitely not used to doing. The next day, on his way to Sakura's office, he – accidentally – passed by Hinata's room. Pure coincidence that he happened to be holding a bag of sweets and a small bouquet. Cosmos. _Sakura's _favorite. So really, it was all coincidence that he happened to drop them on her table. He just felt bad for the student of one of his… _friends_.

And there, he decided, was his good deed of the day. And he proceeded to slouch to Sakura, who shooed him out the door and down the street to Tsunade, who handed him a scroll and told him to "go deal with it" before discreetly adding a list of wines he might pass on the way.

He was back within the week, and, for the first time in eight years, he voluntarily – under his own power – entered the hospital for his check-up. For the second time in his life, he took the same route out as he had taken in. Whatever it is he is searching for, he does not find it.

That night, when Sakura is spooning rice into their bowls and talking about the reinstitution of Team Seven and her day at the hospital when she suddenly gasps and claps her hand over her mouth. "Kaka-sensei!" she exclaims, and thrusts her hand deep into the pocket of her coat, hanging over the back of a chair.

In a flash, she tosses a piece of paper at her former mentor. Calmly chewing on a mouthful of rice, he lets the paper bounce off his forehead and drop into his rice bowl.

_Kakashi-senpai_, the paper reads. _I really do prefer raspberries_.

Nonchalantly, he places the paper in his pocket, and Sakura's green eyes twinkle at him from where she sits between her teammates.


	18. Dove, ShikaHina

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 19, Dove, ShikaHina

_Rainbow_

_**Dove**_

_(ShikaHina)_

In his mind, she is dove-gray-white-cream, soft and nurturing. The color is quiet, but not common, and never simple. It is clean. And it is easily dirtied.

And eventually, he finds that he will give anything to protect this softness, this cleanliness. He doesn't want the dove to lighten to bright, piercing white, or darken to blinding, shadowed black.

His own brown is muddy and staining, and so he keeps his own hands off, but he finds that he would rather she be stained with mud then blood. It is easier to wash off.

And so she is the only thing that can make him move at any pace faster than a walk, the only one for whom he is willing to be awakened. Ino watches him with something akin to pity in her eyes, and Chouji slaps him on the back and tells him that women are complicated, impossible creatures.

Occasionally, he thinks that Asuma-sensei would have been able to give him better advice.

Then he decides that, even if Sensei had known something, he would never have shared it – not with Shikamaru. Shikamaru doesn't ask, and Sensei doesn't offer, not on this, so that's how it is.

So he protects her, quietly. He has himself made strategist and never assigns her to solo reconnaissance, never kunoichi missions. His excuse is a crippling fear of Neji's retribution should he do so, but Tenten is sent on these missions at least once a month, and sometimes by him.

She confronts him one day. It is a beautiful day, with dove-gray-white clouds drifting across a striking blue sky the exact shade of Ino's eyes. She is nervous, he thinks, or angry; he knows she is there, and can hear her breathing, but he does not turn to look up at her. He has never been vain, but with her all-seeing gaze resting on him, he wonders what, exactly, she sees.

She finally gives up on speaking, settling gracefully down besides him instead – close enough for her hair to brush across his arm, far enough that their bodies do not brush. A blush crosses ivory skin, and her long blue-purple-black hair shifts. Finally, she leans towards him, tentatively. Her shoulder meets his. "That one," she whispers, voice trembling. "That one is a white flower, supported by the tree."

Her finger points, and he thinks he sees it, the column of a tree trunk wrapped with vines bearing delicate flowers. She is watching him, as though this means something.

Funny thing is that it does. Ino, apparently, is not the only one to use flower analogies in the course of daily life. Maybe it's a girl thing. Maybe he's subconsciously attracted to it.

But he nods, and stands. She looks a little bit disappointed for a minute, but he reaches a hand down in an uncharacteristically gentlemanly movement, and pulls her up.

He takes her to his favorite table in the park, the one with the shogi markings already drawn on it and the pieces hidden nearby, and they play. The first time, he wins. The second time, he lets her.


	19. Silver, KabuSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love – comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. CRACK. 19, Silver, KabuSaku.

Rainbow

_Silver_

**(KabuSaku)**

"Traitor," she hisses. He shrugs, and the moonlight glints silver off his glasses, hiding his eyes. "Yes," he agrees, softly. She imagines that he sounds sad. Distraught. Remorseful. She pretends that he is sorry for betraying them.

She does her eyes and invites a different fantasy in. That stupid silver not-Kakashi hair and the pristine not-ninja clothing sustained red with blood. His.

When her eyes open again, he is exactly where she left him, bound to the wall by stainless steel chakra-enforced chains. A flare of symbols surround him, draining his chakra even as his body produces it. There _is _blood on him, and she tells herself to enjoy it, to revel in the blood. The pain.

She walks out, her low heels clicking on the cold gray cement, walks out of the prison, and vomits into the bushes. Codl hands hold back her hair, and she looks up into Ino's understanding eyes. "I can take him," she offers. Sakura shakes her head, taking a sip of water from her pack. "No," she says, voice hard with the thrill of coming vengeance, "Kabuto is mine."

And Ino stares after her best friend and thinks that she wasn't made for this job.

The next day finds Sakura in Kabuto's cell once more. It is unpadded, and the first thing she does is pick him up by the throat and throw him against the wall. She is sure she has broken at least a rib, but he simply opens his eyes and _smirks _at her.

She drops him like red-hot metal back into his confinement and picks up his hand, gulping back the bile. "Kabuto," she whispers, voice husky. His thumb breaks with a snap and he hisses, involuntarily. She takes his other hand and smiles, girlish and saccharine sweet. "Kabuto," she repeats, "is there anything you want to share with me?" There is a pause, during which he simply sits at stares at her. His other thumb snaps, and she drops it, reaching for the hands she started with. She strokes his pinky for a moment, "You may never hold a kunai again." She sounds mournful, and the crack of the bone fills the room.

"Anything you want to tell me, Kabuto?"

No reply.

"Where is your dear Orochimaru-sama?"

No reply.

"And Uchiha Itachi?"

No reply.

"And Sasuke?"

"Still pining after your little lover, Sakura-_chan_?" His voice is filled with pain, but still he refuses to answer her questions.

Changing his broken chains, she leaves water leaking out of the rusty, dripping faucet when she washes her hands free of his blood.

Her heels click as she leaves the room and Kabuto, in her wake, falls to the floor, unconscious.

The next time she comes to visit him, she sticks her hand down his pants and takes his lips in her own and whispers, "When I first saw you, at the chuunin exam? I thought I could love you. I thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever met."

His eyes widen and she can feel his arousal and she smirks, "Yes, Kabuto. Beautiful." She squeezes him, once, and then she stands and wipes her hands on his shirt. "You're filthy," she says. "Disgusting."

Her heels are clicking away once more, and he suddenly says, "When I first saw you, I thought you were strong."

She thinks he is lying, but that does not mean she is not flattered. Could it be that this man – this enemy – had seen who she was before anyone else? She does not stop, and she does not pause, but her mind stays with him that entire day.

The next day she is back, and this time she is neither torturer nor seductress, only a girl in need of reassurance, answers, closure.

"Kabuto," she says, and it does not fill the room. "What did you mean?" Her voice is low and trembling, and apple green eyes – not jade, nor emerald – stare at him from across the room.

"What do you think I meant?" he asks her. And it is a question.

Her green eyes slide to the floor, and she nods once, slowly. "So that's how it is," she agrees, and that very same day, she hands him over to Ino.

At his execution, when his eyes find hers the moment before the silver-steel-gray syringe deposits its venom, she tells herself she is not sorry.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

I actually wrote this one before the ShikaHina, but I forgot to post it – that would also be why the numbering is messed up.

This note is basically to ask you all to vote on my poll, support _Disbelief _so I can get off my lazy butt and write it, and be understanding, because I have finals next week. Thanks!


	20. Black, SasuIno

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love – comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. CRACK. 20, Black, SasuIno.

Rainbow

_Black_

**(SasuIno)**

There has always been something strange about loving the man whose mind you just dug through, whose bones you just shattered, whose skin you just ripped.

And yet it is happening, you think, as you watch his form on the floor. He doesn't even have the decency to show you his pain.

Sakura will come in in a few moments, once the silence inside the room has drawn on long enough. She will step in, boots made for hospital floors clicking against cement, and she will nod to you. And in her eyes you will see nothing.

And then she will turn and walk across the room, to _him. _To Sasuke. And though you will not see it, you feel her begging him with her eyes. And you will wonder exactly what she is saying.

Her fingers will fly through the jutsu, and you will see him relaxing under her touch. She never stays for a moment longer than she has to – because of you – but when she leaves you will see the defiance in his eyes renewed.

Black. His eyes are always black, now. Always, always black for you. For Sakura, in the last moments before she leaves, they will spin red, as if in reassurance.

\\--/

There is something strange about loving T&I, just as there is something strange about loving the woman standing above the chair you are chained to, preparing to delve into your battered mind yet again. There is information you protect with everything you have, shoving all other knowledge and memory in her way, and this thought is part of that.

You look into her eyes and you fall.

This is routine, now. Her blue eyes are detached and spiteful, and you fight the urge to look away.

Sakura. Her eyes change whenever the pink-haired woman enters the room. Jealousy and warmth and a modicum of – could it be? – love. And you find yourself jealous of the girl who once proclaimed her love for you at the gates of Konohagakure.

Ino watches her hungrily, as if soaking up her image, her mannerisms, her expressions.

You doubt there is anything between them – Sakura wears a large diamond engagement ring on her ring finger, always –but you wonder if Ino wishes there was.

Your eyes flash red, and then she leaves, and you are once again alone witht eh woman you think you just might love.

Your heart and mind and future are black, empty. But it seems hers are, too. And you're going to be spending it together, in this deep, dark hole in the ground. That, at least, is something to be grateful for.

\\--/

Author's Notes:

No, I don't know what that was. Like, at all. It just… flew out of my fingertips? Yeah. Well, I'll let it be known that I absolutely cannot stand this pairing, being the SasuSaku fangirl that I am, but here it is.


	21. Emerald, KabuShiz

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love – comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. CRACK. 21, Emerald, KabuShiz

Rainbow

_Emerald_

**(KabuShiz)**

He is the enemy, she tells herself as he kneels before her, looking completely unaffected by their positions. _The Enemy._ _The Cad. The Liar. The Betrayer._

He should be nothing to her.

(But she remembers, oh, how she remembers. She remembers dazed summer nights and freezing winter ones, when she was warmed by the heat of his body. She remembers her first kiss, and how furious he had been when he had discovered it. And she remembers the beautiful emerald promise ring that she still wears around her neck.)

He is everything.

(When she leaves Konohagakure for the first time, it is he that she mourns. Her uncle is dead, and she will avenge him, but she wishes that she did not have to leave him. In part, though she knows better, she blames herself for the way he has turned out. When he defeats her, on the side of Orochimaru, she hates herself for leaving.)

His eyes are empty of all emotion now, before her, but she remembers at time when he would have been happy to see her; though he always tried to hide his true feelings – something that has never changed, though he never used to be so good at it.

Or she never used to be so bad at figuring him out.

Either way, it is over – over, over, over. As she crosses the bridge, she fingers the chain around her neck, contemplating the thought of tossing it into the river, letting it wash away, never to return.

Never to remind her of her failure, and the boy she once thought she loved, and the man she loves all the more, despite all that he has become.

In the end, she cannot do it – she unclasps the chain, lets the ring fall into her palm, and throws the chain away. The ring she slips onto her pinky – it was made for a child's hand, not the hand of the adult she has become – and she walks away from the bridge.

She may always love him, but she will never betray her country – as he has – and so he must never know.


	22. Raw Sienna, GaaHina

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 22 - Raw Sienna, GaaHina.

_Rainbow_

_**Raw Sienna**_

_(GaaHina)_

_Opposite attract. We call it animal magnetism_. This is what Temari laughingly tells Sakura the first time she encounters Gaara's fan club, and Sakura found it funny enough to relay to the entire Rookie Nine – plus Team Gai.

Ino found it hilarious, and immediately turned to Shikamaru, asking why he didn't have any of it. Sasuke snorted, Naruto laughed until his face hurt, and Lee pondered exactly what animal magnetism was, and how he could obtain it.

Chouji was out on a mission, but he might as well have not been there – he would have been eating chips and ignoring the joke. Kiba had grinned and postured, and Shino hadn't even looked up from his bugs.

Which was good. Very good.

Because she was almost certain that she had been able to keep the blush from her cheeks, but not quite. She would be the first to admit her penchant for blushing, her perpetual shyness, and so she counts herself lucky that neither of her teammates have noticed her…

Obsession. You could call it that, she thinks, and not be far off. She prefers nicer words, like admiration.

But yes, she found the Kazekage of the Sand interesting. Far, far too interesting... and that was bad, because he was one of the most powerful men in the world, and she had things to take care of here. At home.

She reached up to rub her temples. _Hanabi. _Oh, Hanabi – her beautiful little baby sister, never sweet and gentle and kind, but always loving – and now this creature in her place. Hanabi had been transformed into the Hyuuga's heiress – beautiful and cruel and manipulative.

And Hinata was the heiress – not a perfect one, but one with the power of most of the Main House and all of the Branch behind her, and she could not afford to look away, could not afford casual flirtations with a man who would never look back at her, never allow her anything more than admiration from a distance.

The next day, as though through heavenly – or terribly unholy – providence, she is assigned to Sand. Something like a diplomatic trip, Tsunade tells her. You talk with the Kazekage, you smile a lot and promise nothing, you tour the hospital, and then you come home and tell me that everything is perfectly normal.

She goes home and drinks several cups of hot tea in succession. She packs, trying not to care too much about what she brings – though the one-size-too-small uniform Ino ordered for her once somehow makes it in – and visits her father. In front of his room, she bows, and she informs him that she has a mission. And that she will be back in two weeks. He nods, because he cannot do anything else in the face of summons from the Hokage, and she bows and again and leaves.

She is in Sand four days later, and greeted by the Kazekage – she no longer stutters, and she bows low to hide what is left of her blushes. They discuss the weather, and then they discuss politics, in weirdly distended metaphors that include plants, art, pottery, and obscure family relations.

Temari corners her one day, and she tells her that opposites attract, and that they tend to blame it on Gaara's animal magnetism, around here. And then she winks at her and slips away, across the ever-flowing sand. Hinata is left alone, fingertips resting on her lips in surprise.

When she finally thinks to leave, she manages a glance up at the Kazekage's window – he is standing there, watching her. And he nods at her, once, and she thinks that it is the most miraculous thing that has happened this entire trip.


	23. Lavender, KabuIno

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 23 – Lavender, KabuIno.

_Rainbow_

_**Lavender**_

_(KabuIno)_

He comes to her covered in the blood of her friends, and she is tired – just so tired. Too tired to fight him, anymore, but not too tired to snarl at him and glare at him and demand things of him that he cannot give her. Her teammates (_dead_), her family (_gone_), her home (_destroyed_).

Love.

Not his, of course; she would never, ever want his love. Not if the sun burned out and hell froze over and it was sunny in Cloud. Only, sometimes, she just… she just wanted to _feel. _She just wanted to look at his face and pretend he was… he was _anyone _but who he was, and feel the warmth of a body beside hers and the beating of his heart and the whisper of his breath.

Ino is only human, only female, and all alone – except for him.

They call it Stockholm syndrome, and she once encountered it in a movie – an Agent 007 movie, to be exact, _The World is not Enough._ It had been a good movie, even if it showcased the absolute incompetency of the British government. It was a wonder people out there survived without shinobi.

Still, she is determined not to fall prey to its clutches. She will _not _fall in love with her captor, no matter that he has never mistreated her, never drugged her, never hit her, never raped her. He has aided in the fall of Konoha, and that is enough.

It dawns upon her to ask, more than once, why she is still here – still alive, still breathing. She is a prisoner, but she is as free as a prisoner can be.

She does not ask, because she does not wish to know the answer.

In her room, there are windows. They are not large windows – more like slits, like the arrow windows she once read about. But they let in the sunlight and the air and she can see through them, even if she cannot reach. The world around her has not changed – the flowers bloom and trees grow and birds sing.

She wonders if, when she leaves this world, anyone is left to mourn her. (She has mourned, is still mourning – mourning in lavender, because she has too much pride to ask for black.)

And she does not allow herself to like him, to love him.

It is hard, because she is fighting against nature itself – fighting against the urge to make herself lovable for those who hold her life in their hands – but she will not. She can not.

She will live the rest of her life in this cage, in this room that she can cross in an eye blink, slowly losing her conditioning, her skills, her training. And she does not know what to do – there is no training to do for this. And if she had a weapon with which to kill herself, she would.

And then she realizes something: Kabuto is shinobi. And therefore, although she is incapacitated, he would carry a weapon somewhere on his person.

It takes more preparation and work than she has put into anything for a long, long while – but in the end she finds the thin dagger hidden in his boots, and she takes it. She has been a thief her whole life, and it will not stop her now.

She takes it, and she slits her own throat, twice. It hurts – burns, really, like a fire-hot brand across her throat. She wishes that she had a sword to fall on, because she's sure it would be faster – and more traditional.

But she wants to see his expression when he walks in on his precious prisoner, sees her life's blood pouring out of her like water from a cracked vase. And she gets to see it – she gets to see the expression on his face, the calm façade cracking and splitting, revealing horror and desperation behind it.

And he kneels at her side and forces chakra into her body – chakra that she resists with all her might, though she knows that it is too late anyhow – and he whispers the one thing that can break her, _"I love you. If you live, I'll set you free."_

By then, its too late.


	24. Gray, GaaIno

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 24 – Gray, GaaIno.

_Rainbow_

_**Gray**_

_(GaaIno)_

She's certain that if he had a fanclub, she could be the president. After all, with all those years of experience as an Uchiha Sasuke fangirl – even becoming the President for three weeks, before she was impeached! – she was certain she could defeat any _Sunagakure _fangirl who would want to challenge her position.

Really!

And if Sakura thought – and told her, often – that she should really stop being such a _fangirl_, then what of it? After all, Sakura had already gotten the guy and her happily ever after and whatnot, so of course Ino had to have a love story to rival the Last Uchiha and the Godaime's apprentice.

Though seeing as how she didn't really have a title of her own, she was a little bit screwed. Really, she should have just gone after Naruto… or would have, if he weren't so _clumsy. _And if Hinata-chan hadn't gotten there first.

But Gaara was the _Kazekage _of the _Sand_, and he used to be the contained of Shukaku! Even if that knowledge wasn't really supposed to be encouraging… Still! And so what if her parents thought she was crazy and flighty? She had just accomplished her _first _S-rank mission, thank you all very much, and she was certain that Torture and Interrogation was just the field for her.

Being Yamanaka had its advantages.

Of course ShikaInoChou was suffering a bit, what with never getting any field missions, but really. Shika had his stuff to do as a strategist, and Chouji, well… Chouji could do solo missions for a while or something. Really.

She had a Kazekage to catch.

And at that moment exactly, he stepped out of the building, and was promptly mobbed by fangirls. Ino blinked. Oh, _wow. _This was worse than Sasuke's days at the Academy! This was worse than _Neji's _days at the Academy! This was probably worse than _Itachi_! Not that she really went after guys _that _much older than her…

Man. Life was _gray._ Disgusting, boring _gray._ Disgusting, boring, manflesh-less _gray._

Luckily, she had the added advantage of being a well-accomplished kunoichi.

Sadly enough, she discovered a moment later, the fangirls didn't really respond well to normal crowd dispersing techniques. _Ugh._ They were _rabid_! In fact, she was pretty sure she had seen some drooling – and, she added, inspecting her arms, there was _definitely _some scratching going on in there.

It really was fortunate she had finally learned how to fix scratches like these. Frowning in concentration – even though it would probably cause wrinkles, later – she drew a shimmering finger down her arm. _There! _Perfectly healed. Not even a scar.

…Not that something like that would scar.

But still!

With one last sigh, she looked back towards the group, and frowned. She really was happy that the fangirls here weren't as organized as the ones in Konoha.


	25. Periwinkle, NaruSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 25 – Periwinkle, NaruSaku

_Rainbow_

_**Periwinkle**_

_(NaruSaku)_

Bridges are made for crossing, and they are equally good at it, equally good at fixing their eyes on a goal and making it there. Except the impossible, of course. The impossible is still impossible – Sakura cedes Sasuke to Sound as one might an embattled territory (but only for now), and Naruto has Konoha to worry about.

He is Hokage and she is his assistant, and together they can do everything. Sometimes, they find themselves thinking that, if Sasuke were here, they could have more – they could have everything and anything, the world and the sky. But they have each other, and it must be enough.

The sky flows blue-purple, clear and happy, over Konoha, whose people are, too, happy – happy because they choose to be, happy because they have stared death in the face and lived to tell of it.

And the two of them – Sakura and Naruto, Naruto and Sakura – have smiled in the face of death and turned and walked away. It was once whispered, in the dark alleys and hidden corners, that they would become death. Once, when skies were black and stormy and people watched them train and kill and thought that they would be monsters.

But they are not monsters, they are legends. Legends.

Someday, they will not remember Uzumaki, only Naruto. No Haruno, only Sakura. And it will be enough. People will hear their names and smile, for theirs is _love_. Theirs is the ability to fall and get up; to give up, only to realize that what you wanted is in your hands all along.

A love strong enough o have crossed all bridges and borne all separation and survived, whole and strong and complete.


	26. Maroon, NejiSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 26 – Maroon, NejiSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Maroon**_

_(NejiSaku)_

He really _is _too much like Sasuke, she thinks, and it _almost _hurts to talk to him, just like it _almost _hurts to look at Sai. But not really, because he is different just as Sai is different, and it is a _good _hurt, like wiggling a loose tooth.

It is hurt that tells her she is healing, because every time she talks to him it hurts slightly less, and that is _good._ Because maybe someday she'll be able to look at him and talk to him and be friendsandmaybemore with him, and it won't hurt.

(Because he's beautiful, and she isn't blind.

And because he's strong and loyal.

And she values that.)

Because he's different that Sasuke, and she knows that now. She knows that. She knows that he actually cares, that he would never leave his team _notforanything_, and that he would never leave Konoha. That Konoha is _everythingandmaybemore_ for him.

And that means that _ifwhen_ she catches him, she'll always be second, because Konoha will _always be firstfirstfirstfirst._ But that's okay. Because she's fine with second, has dealt with third and fourth and _last_.

(And she watches him out of the corner of her eyes.

Because of Byakugan…

but maybe more because she's afraid.

Afraid of being hurt and being rejected

and being torn into pieces and left on a bench.)

But she has never been able to hide, with _pinkmaroonmaroonpink _hair and _brightbrightbrightglowing _eyes. So when he comes up to her and places his _largewarmcallused _hand on her shoulder, it is frightening and it is exhilarating and it is _harddifficultimpossible_ to look up at him so naturally and smile and ask him if he wants a seat.

Because she's not ready. She's not ready for heartbreak, when she has so recently put that heart of hers back together. She's not ready for rejection, when she has so recently been accepted. And she's not ready to be left on a bench, because its _coldfreezingfreezingcold._

But that night, when she stands to leave and she shivers and starts for home, he puts his coat over her shoulders and smiles at her, from somewhere deep behind his eyes.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Does anyone know where I can find _Gundam Seed _manga scans and episodes? yeakthx.

(And did anyone see that 4x100 free men's relay final? Like, OH, _yes_. It was beautiful. Like dropdeadgorgeous beautiful. I nearly cried, it was that beautiful. Instead, I hurt my throat cheering. Because really. The French shouldn't have said that. Because it pissed them _me_ off. Enough to win.)

And this one? Yeah, this one I owe _Neon Genesis _(the most _amazing _review _ever_). Because I kind of sort of made a mistake and told her I had already written it when I, um, didn't?

So this is hers.


	27. Purple, SasuSaku REWRITE

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 27 – Purple, SasuSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Purple**_

_(SasuSaku)_

_First love is doomed to failure_, you tell her consolingly, and Sakura nods her head – not in agreement, and definitely not in disagreement, but in acceptance. And you think that if this were a romance novel, then he would pass by the bar right now and swoop down on her and carry her away.

But it is not, even though you lift your head and glance hopefully towards the door. And this is a wasted motion, for you know before you look that he will not be there, and that he will not be here to rescue her from herself.

And that he has always been able to take care of her body, but never her heart. _He doesn't understand_, she wails quietly, and you nod. Because this is true: Uchiha Sasuke does not understand. And you can't comprehend anymore why he's a genius when he's still stuck on _I shouldn't want you_, and she's on _But I need you_.

Of course, he's probably not even on _I shouldn't want you_, and Sakura's far from _But I need you_, but maybe you're projecting them onto Neji and Tenten, and maybe, pathetically, you're projecting them onto your own pathetic love life.

But maybe its true, and maybe this is a rare (_everyday_) occurrence, where you are being truly, truthfully wise and realize that Sasuke (_not –kun_) is in denial, that he really loves the pink-haired half-drunk girl sitting next to you, and that he should be swooping in just about now to carry her away.

And you admire that frail, delicate girl sitting there; partially because a drunk Sakura is one who is like the Sakura from _Before Uchiha Sasuke_, because a drunk Sakura is truthful and melancholy and accepting and content, a little bit. But mostly because a drunk Sakura is a truthful one.

Sakura is truly, deeply drunk about midnight, when the shot glasses in front of her are rivaling the great pyramids she once read about in a textbook of hers and told you about, and she tells you, sadly, sorrowfully: _I think I still love him. _

You remind her that first love is doomed to failure, and she smiles at you sadly. _Except when its not_, she replies, and you are stumped by this answer, this simplistic answer that makes no sense and all sense, and you stare down at the bruises on your arms – the bruises you will not let her heal, because they are training bruises and not mission bruises, and because these bruises are reminders.

Reminders that you are not strong enough, not quite, not really. Not strong enough for your best friend, the girl you always protected when you were younger, and still try to protect now.

They are reminders that you cannot protect her from the one who hurts her most in her life, and they sting. They hurt, they burn, they ache. Because this is the truth: that you can protect her from the little things, from girls picking on her in the playground and from enemy shinobi she was not strong enough to protect herself from, but you cannot protect her from Uchiha Sasuke.

Because this is her choice, and it makes you ache, deep down, and it makes you wish, fiercely, that the _boyman_ was dead. That he was dead and he would never inflict his _porcelainpale _skin and _ebonydark _hair and _perfectperfect _features on her again.

Because you can feel her breaking, feel her falling apart with each look that he does not grant her, each word he does not say.

And you think that he could still make it in time, now; that he could still swoop down in here and carry her off, bridal style, in true romance-novel fashion. And you look toward the door, _hopefullynotexpectantly_.

But he is there, suddenly. He does not belong in such a place as you are, because this place is dark and crowded and noisy, but he is here, eyes straining through the dark as though searching. And then his eyes rest on the girl beside you, and then you.

He does not need to fight his way through the crowd, not like you would have, and he is by her side in moments. "Yamanaka," he says to you, by way of greeting, and his eyes are cold and blank. And then they settle on her, and _maybemaybe_ you see a spark of warmth in them, a burst of light. And maybe not.

But you like to think that you do, and when he lifts her up in his arms, you think that maybe they'll get their happilyeverafter. Maybe. Because you think that this is romance novel material, right here in front of you, and that maybe she'll be The One. Maybe he'll choose her, and bear her off on his noble white steed to his castle, where she'll be his Queen and his Lover and his Wife and the Mother of his children, and they'll all live happily ever after.

But maybe, you think, as you are ordering another bottle of sake, maybe you are reading too much into this. Still, it is nice to hope.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

And you should all be proud of me, because I (_finally!_) finished _Goodnight_, and now I've (_finally!_) finished this. Yeah. Despite the four-page essay I have due for AP US History, even though, um, hello? It's the first day of school. Which blows. Yeah.

And you should also be proud of me because this was _this close _to becoming an InoSakuSasu, and that would have _sucked_. Majorly. So be happy with this.


	28. Goldenrod, KabuHanabi

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 28 - Goldenrod, KabuHanabi.

_Rainbow_

_**Goldenrod**_

_(KabuHanabi)_

She is young and untried and arrogant, so sure that she has seen everything that she needs to see, so sure that she has stared Death in the face and laughed, so sure that there is nothing left for her to fear. But she is young and proud, as you were, once, and so you cannot hate her for this arrogance. Instead, you feel the slightest tinges of sorrow when you look upon her young, unlined face in all its Hyuuga glory.

Her eyes widen only slightly when Tsunade-hime tells her your name, and you smirk, slightly. It seems your fame (_infamy_) has preceded you, yet again. But then her face shifts into grim lines of hatred, and then polite blankness, and you know what task she has been given, and what she has been told.

_Remember what this man did to your sister_, comes the ringing call, and you close your eyes, briefly, and recall what you once were ordered to do, what you once did. You left the girl alive, though, and her limbs fully functional. You left her eyes intact. And she never admitted anything. There was not a particle of information that crossed Hyuuga Hinata's lips, no matter how close you held the kunai to those beautiful white eyes.

And you think, as you look at this girl, that they can and cannot be related. Because her sister was softness with a core of finest steel, and she is… she is metallic fluidity, and so she must wear her weakness on the inside. You think you know what it is; you think you know why her pale forehead is bared for all to see. But you cannot prove her own weakness to her, for she must already know it, and so you tuck it inside your memory, you save it for when it will hurt the most.

And then she meanders up to you, politely, softly, quietly, and in one motion plucks the glasses from your face and snaps them in half, dropping them to the ground and grinding the glass into the cold concrete floor. (You think, in this moment, with her face hard as stone, that she is the brightest little creature you have ever seen.) And then her fist hits you squre in the nose. Your chains rattle as you stumble backwards, stumble because she has not bothered to Gentle Fist you, or use chakra.

And then she lays her hand on your heart and tells you this, "I will not kill you, for nii-san would not want her revenge like this. But you will pay, Kabuto." And she blocks your chakra, efficiently and very, very effectively. She draws her kuani around your body, one countinuous, burning line of pain. You can feel her hand settle on your groin, and you can sense her decision.

Her hand moves way, and she leans in closely to tell you that you will never enjoy the company of a woman - _or a man_, she adds mockingly - again.

This may be a light sentence in her eyes for what you did to her sister, but when you lie on the ground and realize that you cannot even roll over, that you cannot move your arms and your legs and can barely breathe, you hate her. And adore her.

You have never met a woman like, her, not even in Sound. There are many women there who would gladly torture you, even as she had. And maybe even some who would have the same finesse. But there is not one who would leave you alive only because it is what she believes her sister would want. There is not one who would let you live for a sister that she has been trained from birth to hate.

And you admire her, lying there on the ground where she has left you. You think that maybe the arrogance you see in her is really pride, and you wonder what it could have been like, had you had just a little more time with her. Different circumstances, perhaps.

And you think that Orochimaru-sama may really have corrupted you, as they all keep saying. (You realize that he tried to make you gold, to him, but all he got was an imitation.) Because you don't think you've never felt anything quite like this for a creature have your age, and you think that it would be horrible, if you had any morals left.

But you don't, and you lie there and dream as the men come to drag you away. And you keep dreaming, even as they bury you alive.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

So somehow, all the drabbles that I write with Kabuto have to do with bondage and/or captivity. Which is, um, weird. Am I somehow associating him with sado-masochism? Or am I just hinting that any pairing involving him and a Konoha kunoichi would only happen if one of them were somehow captured? Hm. What the heck am I thinking?

And, um, I totally did not appreciate the lack of reviews, by the way. For the SasuSaku? Yeah. Um, I rewrote it, for all of you who didn't get the memo. Grrr. Meanies. I mean, seriously. Not one? -pout-

You should all be totally happy that I'm awesome and nice and happy _and just met an amazing guy and am thus in a totally awesome mood_. Um, especially the last bit. So this was a little bit for Neon Genesis, who once told me, "Someone needs to march up and snap Kabuto's glasses in half, though, because that would make me ridiculously happy." So now someone has.


	29. Black, JirSaku

Sometimes, Sakura thinks that he is just another thing she has inherited from her master: a memory, only, a memory of a far-away place and a long-forgotten dream, a time that taught her more than it should have; more then it seemed to

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 29 - Black, JirSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Black**_

_(JirSaku)_

Sometimes, Sakura thinks that he is just another thing she has inherited from her master: a memory, only, a memory of a far-away place and a long-forgotten dream, a time that taught her more than it should have; more then it seemed to.

So now it is not Naruto holding her hand, because that would make them symmetrical and doom Naruto (and Sasuke-kun, always Sasuke-kun) to failure.

It is Jiraiya, Jiraiya of the white not-Kakashi hair and the grey not-Tsunade eyes, who holds her now.

She cannot help but think that this is wrong. And she cannot help but dream that it will be right.

Jiraiya doesn't stay; he never stays. It is in his nature to leave, to let the wanderlust and the bloodlust draw him away. (Sometimes, it is just lust. She wonders why she forgives him. Maybe it's because Tsunade _doesdidwill_.)

And Sakura has no choice, really. Sakura has no free will; Sakura does what those before her have, and she follows, stumbling blindly in the darkness, reaching for something she cannot see.

Because Sakura follows a path laid down by the generations, a path tread and tread over and over, until the time-worn trail becomes a paved path, and the childish forest it walked through grows into majestic greatness.

It is a trail she did not think she could leave.

Because she is not as good as Tsunade, and she knows this, and Tsunade has walked the path all her life. And maybe Rin left the path, maybe. But Rin _died _leaving the path, and maybe she doesn't believe in herself, but Sakura has no need of death. Sakura has _things _to do, _people _to meet and smile at and greet. Sakura has no need of death, for she has already met him, and she is trying to get him back.

And that, too, is part of the path. A winding part of the story, full of betrayal and loss and heartache and heartbreak.

She runs her fingers along the cloth binding of an _oldoldold _book, dusty and pristine and full of the smell of old books and stale perfume and fading ink, and she thinks that, someday, she will write her own story.

It would be epic, she thinks. And she has always loved books, loved their off-white pages and off-black ink, loved them for the way the pages never really matched up, for the page numbers - slightly off-center - and the titles, emblazed on the hard covers.

The ending, though, is problematic. She frowns and slides the slim volume back onto the shelf - it is one of Jiraiya's earliest, one of the works that he no longer reads, except maybe to laugh over; erotica, she remembers Tsunade telling him, is simply a high-class pornography; better produced, better conceived, better executed. Jiraiya regarded his later works as erotica; this was simply pornography. She loves it though, despite the fact that he has long discarded it.

And that is part of the problem, too; the problem of the ending, because she does not know how it will end.

There is some safety, she thinks, in following the path - everyone knows where the path leads, for one need only to look at those who have gone before. But no one knows where she is now, she who is partly on the path and partly off it, walking one foot in golden-brown leaves and the other on gray-black pavement.

No one knows where the path she is taking will lead, and so she cannot write the epic; she cannot write the story.

For what is a story, if not the ending?


	30. Scarlet, ChouSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 30 - Scarlet, ChouSaku.

_Rainbow_

_**Scarlet**_

_(ChouSaku)_

When they were little not-yet-genin, just students in a Ninja Academy, where half the students were doomed to fail - a veritable lifetime ago - they each thought the other would.

Fail, that is, and maybe Chouji was right and maybe Sakura was.

Because Sakura was made for failure, then; made for failing and crying and being picked up again and having her tears dried with soft cloths and warm hands.

And Chouji was of a family that Sakura didn't - couldn't - understand, because she was not shinobi, had never been, her family was made of genin and merchants, civilians and would-have-beens.

Time and death and loyalty have changed everything; Sakura thinks it is the common metal plate on their foreheads that makes them the same now. Chouji thinks it is the common blood they have shed.

Either way, they are the _same _now, one and the same, survivors. Through the ninja war and through the deaths of teammates and friends and enemies, through Konoha's destruction and rebuilding, stone and water in the midst of turmoil.

That is what she thinks he is: stone. Immobile and immovable and _strong, firm, complete_. He is what she could never begin to hope to be, what she could never see herself being.

She is strong now, she knows that, but she is changing, always changing, spring and fall and winter and summer, because that is what she is. It is in her nature, the nature of _Sakura_, because flowers and water and all living, flowing things are susceptible to time and the flow of it, washed away and built anew.

There is always a season, though; a season where everything is dark and gloomy and dead, and you think that you will never grow again, never bloom again.

But Chouji is like stone, she thinks affectionately. He is like stone, like rock, and steadfastly he watches her back, watches her face, watches her path.

At first that is all there is to it: a security net, a safety blanket, someone large and strong and omnipresent to be there for her, because so few have. So few have really, truly been there for her, have watched over her for nothing but her, and maybe_justmaybe_ he is up to it.

And maybe not, but there is nothing left to lose if she tries.

Time is hard for everyone, and death less hard; but it is loyalty that is the hardest. Loyalty through it all, when you discover that Konoha ordered the death of your teammates' family, when you discover that your brother_teammate_bestfriend lies dead in the cold, hard ground because he cared enough to try.

Loyalty is hard, and it is the one thing that Sakura has left to cling to.

But with him… With him, she sees the new beginning. She sees someone who will still be there in the light, when it is spring and when it winter, and who will remain the same throughout all of it.

Who will trundle along, slow and steady - who will beat her to the finish, because he is always moving, almost going forward, and she is here letting her soul die.

So he makes her fight, in a way. He makes her fight for what must be, what has to be, what could be.

And so maybe that's why she chooses him. Maybe. And maybe it's because it was never her choice to begin with; not everything is.

But whatever the cause, whatever the reason, she has learned not to question Fate, not to question Blessing and whatever great god has granted her this Gift.

She will only enjoy it while she can, for she knows that - like all things - it will go like the wind. _You cannot tell where it is coming from, or where it is going. But you hear its sound, and you can revel in it_.


	31. Ice Blue, KakaAnko

Some say that Anko has always had a heart of ice; dark, stained ice and a snake's twisted soul. Some say Anko fought with the devil and learned all his tricks and betrayed him. Some say she loved him. Some say she still does.

And maybe this is all partly true, but no one ever doubts Anko's loyalty to Konoha. No one ever doubts that she will fight with her last breath, her last heartbeat, to stop her _devilmasterlover?_ from entering Konohagakure's gates.

It matters little how much she loves him.

Kakashi wishes he could say as much.

Because when he is being truthful, he can say that he misses Sasuke, Sasuke who was so much like himself, who he loved as brother and son and teammate. And when he is being very, very truthful, he is sorry for (_to_) Naruto, and, more, for Sakura. If he had not chosen, perhaps…

And most of all, he mourns Team Seven, his _teamthatmighthavebeen _and his _teamthatalmostwas_, and maybe his _teamthatcouldhavebrokenthecycle_.

But now they are over, and he is preparing to beat his _teammatesonbrother _into the ground, if he still can, and when he stands there - stands next to Anko against the walls and watches and waits and listens to silence, maybe he begins to understand.

Some believe that here is no beginning to understanding; that people understand or do not, and no amount of argument can sway them in either direction. Kakashi disagrees, because he has seen betrayal and loss and what remains afterward, and how people can change in one moment from your best friend to your worst enemy, from your first love to your greatest regret.

So when they walk away again - minutes or days or years later, when the happy killers get drunk and the regretful killers mourn and the cold ones (_like him_, he thinks. _Like Anko_) go home and sleep.

So when she grabs him and kisses him he lets her, because maybe he is not as cold as he thinks he is, and because maybe he hasn't even begun to sense his own detachment, and because maybe he wants to. He lets her pull off his mask and slide cold fingers under his armor and yank it off, piece by piece. So they kiss first and fuck soon after and it means nothing, _nothing_.

Except that maybe it does, and not only because she can do page sixty-seven of volume four. Maybe its because, for one sparkling moment, he understood and she understood and it was enough.

Almost enough.

Because he supposes, now that it is over and they lie here and she can see his scars and he can see hers, he supposes that now he feel sit. He feels the empty space in the corner, in his heart, where _TeamSeven _should have been (could still be, maybe).

And when he looks in her eyes he can almost see it, can almost feel that empty, gaping hole that Orochimaru left, and if he had been a more verbal man, a more sensitive one, then maybe. Maybe he would have thought something like, _here is another like me_.

Instead, he grabs her face and presses his cold lips against her chapped ones, and for a moment, before greed and lust and maybe a spark of loyalty gleam, he thinks he sees gratitude.

No one wants to remember.


	32. Pink, KankSaku

Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_.

Summary: Because life – and love - comes in a million fragmented colors, and one must try them all before choosing. 32 - Pink, KankSaku.

_Rainbow_

**Pink**

_(KankSaku)_

He thinks she is too soft for the desert; too soft for the scorching winds and the baking sun. She was made for green forests, great trees and soft grass; a life of luxury, where there is time for the asking. Time for the taking. But she reminds him of his sister, of Temari, who is strong and striking and hard and brutal, and so he is sure she will survive. Women, and especially kunoichi, are made for survival. They accept nothing less.

There is a long white scar down her face, straight like a blade, and he knows where it comes from. She touches it sometimes, touches it as though it is a security blanket, for her. He touched it once, too, before she smiled at him - _bitterbitterbitter_ - and turned away, fading into the sand and the buildings and the pavement.

_She is becoming one of us_, he thinks, and the thought should but does not displease him. _She is becoming one of the Sand. _She looks it, too. Her skin is tanned and creased and weathered. A little brutal and a little harsh and a little too much like his sister's, and her eyes, too, have changed. If she was once a hunting bird, a hawk, now she is something more: a tigress, maybe, a lioness in human skin.

The Sand changes everyone: makes them less gentle and less soft and less sweet, sucks the life and the love and the softness out of them and makes them see what is left. He is proud, in a way he should not be, of her. Of her survival. Of the scar on her cheek and the cold glint in her dark eyes, of the way she twists the kunai in the heart of the missing-nin before she blows his head off with a powerful punch. The way she does not cringe at the snap of vertebrae.

He is proud, but she is not his for the taking, because she is still a little too soft… a little too broken, pale pink in the face of brilliant red blood, a brilliant red past. So he stands in the corner and he watches her change, watches her darken and redden and become the woman she was meant to be. A real woman, one you can take and one you can love and one you can hold.

Because right now, HE can't hold her. He can barely watch her without thinking that, despite her prodigious strength, she will crumble under his gaze. And so he cannot - does not - hold her.

One day, though, he will. He promises himself this, holds it deep inside his heart and shelters it like a newborn bird, like a dream. One day, he will hold her.

Kankurou always keeps his promises, and this one is no different. On the day that Sakura truly, truly becomes one of the Sand - when she is no longer on loan from the Hokage and has become one of the Kazekage's, he holds her. He holds her in his arms and lets her tears fall on his cloaked shoulder and smear the purple paint and he whispers something in her ear, something like, _I'm sure Naruto will be fine_, and _You're doing the right thing_, and _They need you here_.

So the Land of Fire falls, and so he holds her. He holds her because he is afraid that, without him, she will fall apart; will fly into pieces and sail across the edge of the universe and never be put back together. And so he holds her, because against the rising tide, he is nothing. He cannot break someone who is already so broken.

But he can try to fix her.

She is kunoichi, after all; and she is of the Sand. What can defeat her now?


End file.
